Surrender

It’s not over. It may be the Easter season, and another’s passion may be completed. But we’re still left here, walking on the beach, wondering what will come next, needing to bring in some fish for dinner. Then he comes to join us for breakfast.

……………………………………………………………….

My literary heart has always loved the Gospel of John: its poetry, its depth, its perfect snake-bite-tail ending when Jesus turns to Peter and says, “Follow me”, just as he did on their first morning together. Only now, Peter knows so much more about what those words hold….the words pulse, heave, hang heavily…they’re a plea, a command, a loving request…weighted down by the cross, by the glory of the resurrection, smudged by his failures and glistening with his Lord’s daily loving acts, the words sink towards the sand and fly towards his heart…Peter knows THE WORD; what will be the word of his life?

And doesn’t the whisper in each of our hearts repeat the same refrain, that begs to be taken up in our hearts and days? I surrender.

…………………………………………………………….

This has been a week pregnant with thought and meaning. One of my dear friends has died; only her joyful and encouraging words linger here in our memories. Our Easter has been full of prayers for her, and of waiting on God’s mercies. In an even more literal sense, this past week has been full of waiting in our family, as our incoming little one plays the game of “I’m coming! I’m not coming. I’m coming! I’m not coming…”

In returning to this favorite Gospel passage of mine, I’ve picked up Knox’s translation and been struck by his nuanced interpretation of this conversation between Jesus and Peter. Jesus asks, “Dost thou care for me more than these others?” and then, “Dost thou care for me?” and finally, “Dost thou love me?” Each question conveys a deepening, a desire for the repentant friend to give more of himself in each response. And when Jesus hints of Peter’s own passion to come and Peter queries of the future awaiting the beloved disciple, Jesus answers, “What is it to thee, if it is my will that he should wait…?”

Our lives are like these apostles’. The gift and the question our Heavenly Beloved asks us is the same, and yet different each time it’s whispered to our souls. Sometimes the surrender is an active charging ahead…I think of the time in college, when I stood on a rock projecting out into the Irish sea and read the poetry my great-great-grandfather wrote there as he prepared to leap to an unknown land and future as he fled religious persecution, and my own heart cried, “Yes! I’m ready for whatever adventure awaits!”

Sometimes the surrender is a letting go, of dreams or physical abilities that have slipped from us as we walk our path.

Sometimes the surrender is to move through another day, to cast our tiredness and suffering at the foot of that broken, bloody tree and “love anyways” – or, as my friend always demonstrated, to “smile anyways”.

The ultimate surrender will be saying yes to letting it all fall away, to go to the Father’s house.

But most of us aren’t there yet. Most of us are still on this beach as the apostles were, rejoicing in their Lord’s return, and yet being prepared by him to continue on as he would leave once more.

………………………………………………………………………..

Let’s go back to the beginning. “And the Word was made flesh, and came to dwell among us.”

Let his word dwell in you today, and let your life breathe and be shaped by the word with which you respond until it is full of that same glory.